


Glory, glory!

by Drarryismymuse (Hatchersn)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Anonymous Sex, Break Up, Dom/sub Undertones, First Time Blow Jobs, Glory Hole, H/D Sex Fair 2020, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Past Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Porn Watching, Post-Hogwarts, Professional Quidditch, Public Blow Jobs, Quidditch Seeker Harry Potter, Sex Club, Sexual Tension, Sexuality Crisis, Switching, questioning Harry Potter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 02:41:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26758180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hatchersn/pseuds/Drarryismymuse
Summary: It's 2005 and Harry has recently purchased a new mobile phone so he can easily keep in touch with his friends.Little did he know that the Muggle technology would lead him down a path of self discovery and safe exploration that would lead him into the soft recesses of the last person he ever expected.As it turns out, very good things can be found in the dark.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Referenced Harry Potter/Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 320
Collections: 2020 Harry/Draco Sex Fair





	Glory, glory!

**Author's Note:**

> For Prompt [#149](https://docs.google.com/document/d/12_5f6f0xUXhqtWfMlhXRyA8kDC3KGShN3oa_IOD12DY/edit#).
> 
> I want to give a very sincere shout-out to my beta, OllieMaye, who provided a quick turnaround for my procrastinating arse and didn't even complain about my utter lack of comma comprehension.
> 
> I also want to thank the mods for running this incredibly fun and sexy fest. I am so happy to have been allowed to participate and I cannot wait to look through all of the submissions!

Harry rolled over in the double bed and propped himself up on one elbow before grabbing his pillow and flipping it over. He gave it a few light punches, for good measure, and flopped back down. He closed his eyes and tried again to force himself to sleep by sheer will alone. He felt restless and tense, so much so that he had been attempting to fall asleep for nearly two hours now, to no avail. He knew what he could do that would relax him enough to allow him to fall into a restful slumber, but he felt awkward doing it here.

It was his first real night back in his and Ginny’s flat in nearly seven months. Sure, he had stayed a week or two over holidays and the like, but now he was back for the next five straight months. He would eventually have to get over this awkwardness, for obvious reasons, but he thought the first night was maybe a bit impolite.

Seven months ago, just before his season with Puddlemere United began, he and Ginny had decided to separate. Things had not been great with them for a while. Sure, he loved her and he knew she loved him, but they no longer felt _in love_ with each other—they hadn’t even had sex for at least a year, much to Harry’s frustration. 

Since he was going to be travelling and away from home for the Quidditch season, they had both agreed that Harry didn’t need to move out of their flat, at least not yet. He did move some of his things into their guest room before he left and that is where he had slept over the holidays, and where he was now.

He hadn’t spoken to Ginny in over a month before returning to the flat today and things had been a little awkward between them at first. Ginny had moved the rest of Harry’s belongings into the guest room at some point over the last month and though he was grateful he hadn’t had to do it, he still felt uncomfortable over the finality of the gesture. 

It had been easy to ignore their separation during the busy Quidditch season. He had been the Puddlemere United Seeker for the last five years and still worked his arse off to be the best Seeker the wizarding world had ever seen. He didn’t really dwell on the reasons behind this intense drive, but he supposed it had something to do with wanting to be known for something he actually achieved versus something he was born into.

Harry rolled over in bed again and sighed deeply; he wasn’t going to be able to fall asleep without some kind of aid. He knew there was usually a vial or two of a sleeping draught in the master en suite, but Ginny had been asleep for hours and he definitely wasn’t about to go traipsing through his old room in the dark just for a potion. 

His eyes flitted over to the mobile phone resting on his bedside table. He had purchased the newest Samsung mobile—the D600—when it was released a few months ago. It wasn’t his first mobile phone, but it was the first one he had that had any substantial features. Hermione had recommended it to him as a quick and easy way for him to stay in touch with his friends while he was on the road. His favourite feature was the top-of-the line camera; he loved to take wacky pictures, usually while he was high in the air during Quidditch practice. He had been chastised by his coach more than once for failing to pay attention to the game while chasing down a bird to photograph for Luna or hanging from his broom to take a photo to send to Ron. 

It wasn’t until he’d had the phone for about a month that he started exploring the web browser function. At first he just found funny joke sites or browsed through the seemingly endless pages on every conceivable topic. One late night as he lay in yet another foreign hotel bed scrolling through the internet on his phone, he had an idea—a delicious, wicked idea.

His first search that fateful night sent him down a rabbit hole of short videos featuring men and women engaged in various sex acts. It had been mind-blowing. Since that night, the web browser trumped the camera as his favourite feature. 

Only a handful of days after discovering the joys of a mobile internet connection, Harry stumbled upon his first clip of two men snogging, naked. Time slowed down as Harry processed what he was looking at. It definitely wasn’t the first time he had ever seen men together—he had stumbled upon Remus and Sirius kissing once, and then there was that time in 6th year that he caught Seamus on his knees in front of Dean—but this was the first time that he let himself watch and just _feel._

He had always had a sort of… inner tingling… when he thought of boys as he grew up. He tried hard to never pay it mind because as a very young child, he was taught that two men together was not “normal” and the last thing he ever wanted to be was even _less_ normal than the Dursleys accused him of. 

When he had realised he had a crush on Ginny during his fifth year at Hogwarts, he cried—literally cried—with relief. Though he had never let himself dwell on it, he’d always been tolerably worried that he was maybe, possibly gay. Being attracted to Ginny allowed him to push that worry out of his brain altogether. 

Until he stumbled upon that video. 

At that time, he hadn’t had sex in over a year; he and Ginny had been on the rocks for some time prior to their official separation at the beginning of the season and had not been intimate in a while. He had been presented with plenty of opportunities over the past few months—women literally threw themselves at him after every game—but he had not seen anyone he fancied enough for a risky tryst.

And so he had let himself watch those men that night in the hotel room. He watched as they progressed from kissing and grinding to performing an enthusiastic 69 position to full-on fucking. The full video clip was only about three minutes long, but before the video even had a chance to loop once, Harry was crying out hoarsely as he pumped himself through a life-altering orgasm. 

It was now nearly three months later and he had almost exclusively been watching gay porn since that time. He still didn’t like to think of the implications of this particular proclivity of his, and instead preferred to placate himself by treating it as merely a curiosity of the “other”. He didn’t think at all of the desire growing within him to live out one of those scenes in real life.

Harry grabbed his mobile from the bedside table and roughly pulled the charge cord out of the port. He huffed back onto his pillows as he slid his phone open and navigated to the web browser. He slipped his free hand into his joggers and absently began stroking his cock as he thumbed to a bookmarked site. 

He was looking for a quick jerk tonight and knew what video would get him there fastest: a shaky, amateur video of a man in a bathroom cubicle (thankfully, the cubicle looked clean) sucking a dick that was shoved through a hole in the cubicle wall. It was apparently called a glory hole. When Harry first found this video, he was surprised to find how positively he reacted to the anonymous nature of the encounter.

Lately, he had been obsessed with finding videos like this: men meeting in private locations and having various types of sex through a barrier. This particular video he saved because the disembodied cock was beautiful—in a strictly aesthetically pleasing way, of course—and the bloke doing the sucking seemed so bloody pleased to be doing it. 

Just thinking about the video as he waited for his phone to load the page got him half hard. He scooted up higher on his bed so he was sitting a little straighter and pushed the elastic waist of his joggers below his hardening cock. Suddenly panicked, his eyes flicked up to the closed bedroom door. Abandoning his cock, he shot his hand out and threw a (admittedly more powerful than necessary) locking charm at his door. He did _not_ want Ginny walking in on this.

Still nervous, but too horny to back out now, he settled back against his pillows and pressed the play button on the now-loaded video. Harry sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and held it between his teeth, his tongue unconsciously playing with the forced plumpness of his lip in the same manner the man on the screen was circling and sucking the tip of the cock in front of him.

Never breaking eye contact with his screen, Harry settled in further and adjusted his hips so his cock was jutting forward, allowing him maximum stroking space. He was completely hard now and as he watched the man on screen choke from a particularly sharp thrust he began squeezing the head of his cock on every up stroke.

It had been a couple of days since Harry last wanked due to the stress and exhaustion that closing out a season entailed, and he was already dangerously close to the edge. He curled himself forward and spit on the head of his cock, the saliva slowly dripping from his mouth and coating the top of his dick before sliding down one side. 

His hand slid up and captured the saliva slipping down, sweeping it around his cock, mixing it with the precome that had just dribbled out. For good measure, he spit one more time and spread that around as he lay back against his pillows and picked up the pace and pressure on his cock. 

The video was nearing the end, where the guttural grunts of the man being sucked off would fill the air as his cock spurted strand after strand of come all over the other man’s face. Harry was going to finish with him.

As the culmination drew nearer, Harry stroked faster and began pumping his hips. His eyes kept closing involuntarily in pleasure and he would snap them open; he didn’t want to miss the grand finale. Finally, a whispered _I’m gonna come_ filtered through the small mobile speaker and Harry knew it was time. 

Hunching forward, he stroked and twisted and squeezed until seconds later his cock was erupting. Biting his lip nearly hard enough to draw blood, he suppressed his cries of ecstasy as he came. He flinched when, on his second spurt, his come landed across his cheek. Without thinking, he titled his cock up and stroked through another few pulses that landed across his face, the last of which was directly on his recently relinquished bottom lip. 

Breathing heavily, he dropped his phone onto the bed and flopped back onto his pillows. Tentatively, he slid his tongue out and licked at his spent come, shivering as he closed his eyes and imagined it was someone else’s. Too soon, he snapped back to reality and with a guilty flick of his hand, his face was scoured of all traces of semen.

He pulled his joggers back up and over his softening prick as he picked up his phone to close out of his web browser. His thumb was over the exit button when he stopped suddenly: an ad flashed across the top of the tiny screen. It was just a simple black banner with flashing white words: _Looking for Discreet?_ And then under those words, in a much smaller script: _click here._

He’d ignored hundreds of ads before, but something about this one had him moving his thumb over the banner and clicking. The link took him to an all black web page. At first, he thought his phone had frozen, but then the text and small graphics began to load. First, the page title: Clava Tenebris. _Club Dark?_ He had learned enough Latin at Hogwarts to easily translate the title. 

For the next five or so minutes, he navigated through the web page, painfully slowly, and was able to discern that Clava Tenebris was a local gay sex club specialising in kink play. The web page didn’t list their address, but did have a section on how to contact them to be screened for membership. 

Harry’s eyes were heavy with exhaustion and he wanted to take advantage of his post-orgasmic sleepiness, so he hit the button to save the page and closed his web browser. He placed his phone back on his bedside table and settled into the covers. He was asleep within minutes.

~

The next two weeks passed in a blur as Harry spent the days catching up on sleep and the nights catching up with friends and family. He loved playing professional Quidditch and got along well with his team, but the months away from home were always difficult for him. 

Oddly, Ginny had not joined him most nights, even though he was meeting up with their mutual friends. He tried not to jump to conclusions—they were separated after all—but he had a growing sense of unease that she was hiding something from him. He had even spent the evening before at the Burrow without her. He had done that before, sure, but this time Molly seemed unusually flustered. Harry had not yet talked directly to Molly about his and Ginny’s separation, but Ginny had told him that she had informed Molly shortly after he left for the Quidditch season and that she had been understanding. 

Harry had never questioned his standing in the Weasley family; he knew they would always welcome him regardless of his relationship status with their only daughter and he couldn’t imagine that Molly’s agitation was based entirely on the fact that he and Ginny were not currently dating. 

He hadn’t wanted to blemish the night by mentioning anything because he could tell Molly was trying hard to act normal. He had planned to talk to Ginny about it, but she was already shut up in the master bedroom by the time he got home last night and he hadn’t wanted to bother her.

Ginny had already left for work by the time he woke this morning and had yet to return home, despite it being after 9:00 pm. His anxiety over the situation had gnawed at him throughout the day and had led him to his current situation: laying sprawled on the couch in their living room absently watching trash telly while sipping on a tumbler of firewhisky and waiting for her to get home. 

He just needed to figure out what was going on and direct communication was usually his preferred method. He had been told more than once in his life that he didn’t quite pick up on subtlety, so he had learned to just walk into everything head-on—well, once he realised he was missing something, at least. 

He picked up his tumbler from where it rested on the floor and tilted it back only to realise it was empty. He hadn’t eaten anything yet and was already feeling quite buzzed, so he grudgingly opted not to refill his glass just yet since he wanted to be coherent when Ginny got home.

Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long; within ten minutes of discovering his empty tumbler, he felt the wobble of Ginny’s magical signature crossing the ward surrounding their flat. Seconds later, she walked through the door. 

Harry shot upright on the sofa and Ginny startled, her hand still on the knob as she pushed the door closed. Immediately, Harry noticed she had clearly changed after work: instead of the dusky grey Gringotts robe, she wore a slim fitting cobalt blue dress and far more makeup than her typical work-day look. 

The pit in Harry’s stomach tightened when Ginny started chewing on her cheek, a clear sign she had something to say that she was nervous about. Harry took a deep breath. “Hey, Gin. I… uh, I think maybe we need to talk?”

Ginny nodded and set her things on the small table by their front door before walking over to join Harry on the couch. She perched tentatively on the edge and pivoted towards him. Harry cursed himself for not refilling his drink when he had the chance.

The two of them sat in silence for a moment and just when Harry thought he might go mad from anxiety she finally spoke. “Harry, I’ve been seeing someone.” Ginny had been staring at her knees but now looked up and made direct eye contact with him. Her soft brown eyes were loaded with a range of emotions: sadness, assurance, consolation, finality. 

Harry swallowed thickly and rapidly clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times. To his surprise, tears had sprung to his eyes and he took a moment to compose himself before replying. “How long?” He didn’t like that his voice had come out more of a croak than a question, but he ignored it and was glad when Ginny did as well.

“Three months.” Ginny worried at a portion of chipped polish on one of her fingernails. “But I’ve known him almost a year.” She held up a hand to stop Harry from interrupting. “You don’t know him; we met at work.”

All at once, Harry felt exhausted. He visibly deflated and slumped into the couch, knocking his glasses askew as he roughly rubbed at his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? Your mom knows, doesn’t she?”

Ginny sighed, “Yes, she knows. She fire-called me at work today worried that she had messed up last night and let onto it before I was ready to tell you.” 

Harry closed his eyes and let himself sink further into the couch. He wasn’t surprised by her admission, and he knew logically that she had done absolutely nothing wrong… but it still stung him much deeper than he had anticipated. 

He realised, for the first time, that he had been assuming he and Ginny would get back together eventually; they seemed too integral to each other to stay apart forever. His heart clenched as a wave of grief washed through him. 

He felt Ginny’s warm hand cover his and squeeze. “Harry. I’m sorry this hurts you, I truly am.” She paused and Harry bit his lip to keep from crying, his eyes still squeezed shut tightly, “But I know—and I feel like you know—that we just didn’t have a romantic connection anymore. I will always love you—”

“Stop.” Harry suddenly sat up and shook Ginny’s hand off of his. “Just stop, Gin, I don’t need your flimsy placations.” Harry stood and snatched his empty tumbler from the floor before stalking to the kitchen and roughly pouring a generous amount of firewhisky into his glass. 

Ginny’s eyes never left him as he leaned against the counter and drained the glass in one go. He slammed the glass down as steam poured out of his mouth and he grimaced as the strong alcohol wrenched its way down his esophagus.

“Feel better?” Ginny arched a brow at him from the couch, the simple gesture containing more displeasure at his reaction than words ever could.

“No.” Harry contemplated the bottle of firewhisky for a moment before deciding to walk away without another gulp; his head was already swimming. “So, tell me why this bloke is so great. What’s his name, even?”

“His name is Tate, and we can talk about this more in the morning, okay?”

“Tate is a stupid fucking name," Harry replied.

Ginny stood up abruptly and grabbed her things from the table. “I know you’re hurting, and I know this was unexpected, but I will not continue this conversation if you can’t be rational.” She turned toward the hallway and began walking to the master bedroom.

“Do you love him?” Harry couldn’t help himself—apparently, he wanted to feel this pain.

Ginny stopped walking and turned toward Harry, and her eyes once again softened. “I don’t know yet, Harry. But even if I do, that doesn’t change the love I have for you.”

Harry closed his eyes and bit back a scathing retort. “Goodnight, Ginny.” 

Ginny pressed her lips together. “Goodnight, Harry.” 

Once he heard the soft _snick_ of the bedroom door closing he grabbed the bottle of firewhisky and then stalked into the living room and snatched his phone from the coffee table before retiring to the guest room.

He cast a strong locking charm on the door and then flopped onto the bed, letting his tears flow unbidden. 

The next morning, Harry woke to a splitting headache and a foul-tasting mouth so dry he could barely open it. He shifted on the bed and gasped when a sharp stab of pain blossomed from his overly-full bladder. Groaning, he rolled off the bed and stumbled towards the bedroom door. 

For a confused moment he couldn’t get the door to open and he briefly panicked that he would piss his joggers trying to get out, but he finally remembered the locking charm from the night before and with an impatient swipe of his hand the door sprung open and he hoofed it to the hall washroom.

Not trusting himself to aim properly, he sat heavily on the toilet and with a deep sigh finally let the floodgates open. He blearily looked around the washroom while waiting for his bladder to empty and noticed a vial sitting on the counter, holding down a small sheet of paper. He reached for the paper, nearly knocking the vial off the counter and held it close to his face (he had no idea where his glasses were) to read it.

_Harry, I noticed the firewhisky missing from the kitchen this morning so I figured I ought to leave you with a hangover potion. I also left you breakfast under a stasis charm in the kitchen. Let’s meet at the Leaky tonight for dinner and a chat, yes? -Ginny_

Sighing heavily, Harry grabbed the vial and downed it. He knew he had been a bit of an arse the night before and he was glad Ginny wasn’t mad at him for it. He had spent the night polishing off the alcohol while trying to sort through the change in his life plans. Deep down he knew, truly knew, that he and Ginny were no longer _in_ love. His reaction had been more due to the shock and grief of being confronted with the finality of losing the life path he had been planning for himself over the last seven years. 

As the potion diffused throughout his body and his headache ebbed, he scrubbed his hands through his hair and reached over to turn on the shower. As the water warmed he stood and leaned over the sink, turning on the cold tap and slurping water greedily straight from the faucet until he had his fill. 

He took his time in the shower, letting the hot water soothe his weary mind and body. When he felt sufficiently human—and pruny—again, he stepped out of the shower and walked back to his bedroom. He was digging through the wardrobe trying to find his favourite pair of jeans when he heard his phone ding.

Thinking it was likely a text from Ron or Hermione, he padded over to where his phone lay on the bedroom floor (when had it gotten there?) and picked it up. He first noticed the battery was nearly dead as he had clearly forgotten to plug it into the charge cord last night, but the notification had not been a text—it was an email.

White noise rushed through Harry’s ears and he felt faint as he stared at the address of the email that had been sent to him: clavatenebris@discreet.com. Hands shaking, he clicked to open the email and whimpered as he read:

<Mr Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that your initial application to join Clava Tenebris has been accepted. We would like to invite you to visit the club during our daytime business hours for a formal interview with our membership board, the result of which will decide if you will progress to phase three: an in-depth health screening—this invitation is valid for thirty days before a new application will need to be submitted. Please reply to indicate your continued interest and I will send our location information.

Gene Hogart

Owner, Clava Tenebris>

Harry closed the email and plugged his mobile into the charger before crawling back into bed. _What the fuck had he done last night?_

~

When Harry next woke, it was early afternoon and he felt much better than he had that morning. He wandered into the kitchen and found the plate of bacon buttys Ginny had left for him. After brewing a cuppa, he sat at the kitchen bar and absently ate his meal while he pulled up his email. 

He read through the email from Clava Tenebris at least fifteen times. He finished his meal and emptied his mug and still he sat at the kitchen bar staring at the email, gnawing on a cuticle and internally wrestling with himself.

He knew he should probably just delete the email and forget he had ever drunkenly applied to be a member of the club. But, on the other hand, the club was both Muggle _and_ specialised in anonymous sex; Harry knew he would not find a safer place to figure out if he liked cock without it being the _Prophet_ headline of the century. He _knew_ he should delete it… but he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

After all, he had always heard that the drunken man’s actions were the sober man’s thoughts—and Merlin knew how often his sober thoughts led to the exact things this club could offer him.

He took a deep breath and before he could change his mind, he tapped the ‘reply’ button and sent a quick missive back stating he could stop by today if the committee could accommodate him. He pressed ‘send’ and snapped his phone shut before roughly setting it on the counter. 

His chest fluttered with a heady mix of excitement, fear, and apprehension. He sat staring at the phone, willing an email response to come in before he lost all his nerve. He rocked back and forth in his seat while his fingers tapped an erratic pattern on the countertop until he couldn’t stand it anymore. 

He sprang out of his seat and stalked to his bedroom to change into a nicer set of clothes—he hoped that an email would be waiting for him once he was ready. He purposely took extra time to choose an outfit, finally settling on dark jeans and a crisp, emerald button-up. He finished off the look with black suede oxfords and even spent a moment trying to squash down his hair. 

He stared at himself in the mirror and tried to imagine how a stranger would see him: would they think he was attractive? Too short? What if no one wanted to have sex with him? He knew these were silly thoughts; Clava Tenebris was a club strictly devoted to anonymity—no one would know what he looked like and he wouldn’t know what they looked like and they would _still_ have sex.

Still. 

He adjusted his shirt one last time and, deciding he was objectively attractive enough, he finally ventured back to the kitchen bar to check his mobile. A forceful gust of air rushed out of his lungs when he saw the notification. 

He breathed deeply to force back the dizziness that threatened and opened the email. Gene told him to come anytime before 5:00 pm and included a map to the club. Swallowing back his sudden fear, Harry shoved his mobile in his pocket and rushed out of the flat, hurrying to the nearest Apparition point.

Within twenty minutes, Harry stood outside the door of what appeared to be an abandoned warehouse, looking back and forth between the tiny map on his phone and his surroundings. He shrugged to himself and knocked on the door; this looked like the right place, according to the map.

Seconds passed agonisingly slow and just as Harry had convinced himself it was all a scam, the door opened to the soft face of a gentleman in his early forties. “Mr Potter, I presume?”

Harry’s mouth was suddenly dry. He opened and closed it a few times, his mind racing with thoughts of retreat. His panic and indecision must have been written plainly on his face because the gentleman smiled soothingly at him. “This isn’t a commitment, Mr Potter, we’re simply getting to know each other today; you can back out at any time and we will never force you to do something you are not explicitly comfortable with.” 

His voice was so soft and his eyes so warm that Harry found himself slightly choked with emotion. _What’s wrong with me?_ he thought. It wasn’t like him to be so on edge. Finally, he found his voice. “Please, call me Harry.”

The man smiled and his entire face lit up with the emotion; Harry liked this man and his anxiety ratcheted down a notch as he felt himself relax slightly. 

“Harry, I’m Gene. Welcome to Clava Tenebris.” Gene stepped to the side and motioned for Harry to enter. The interior looked nothing like Harry expected it to. As plain and slightly derelict as the outside looked, the inside looked clean and modern. 

The lighting was only slightly dimmed in the entryway and Harry looked around: to the left was a check-in station, to the right was an open doorway showing a long hallway of offices, and straight ahead was a large, elaborately designed double door that Harry knew had to be the club entrance.

Gene waited patiently until Harry finished his inspection of the space and made eye contact with him again. “That desk is our concierge, they handle all membership needs, from paying dues to checking in for a night of play. Of course, our records of attendance are heavily guarded, but we must keep track of who is in play inside in case of emergency.” 

Harry nodded his understanding and Gene continued. “You can check your belongings there as well and report any concerns or issues during play to the attendant. That door, as you may have guessed, is the club entrance. If you are extended—and accept—an invitation, then we will tour the club while it’s empty to familiarise you with the landscape. For now, follow me to our conference room to meet with the board.”

Harry audibly gasped as his nerves came rushing back all at once. “It’s not an interrogation, don’t worry. We simply need to make sure that you understand and accept the rules and have an accurate understanding of what you can expect of a membership and what will be expected of you.”

Harry knew Gene meant that to be reassuring, but it did little to calm his nerves. He didn’t know anything about _anything_ , surely his inexperience alone would be cause to deny his membership. At some point, Harry’s attitude had shifted: before, he had been unsure and ready to bolt; now, he wanted this membership more than anything else in the world.

~*~

The last month had surely been some sort of universal physics experiment: Harry had never lived a month so excruciatingly long and, simultaneously, impossibly short. 

Tomorrow night was the first play night Harry had signed up for. At Gene’s recommendation, Harry had signed up to attend the next Young Men’s Night, which had an age range restriction of 21-35. Gene thought it would be more comfortable for Harry to be surrounded by men close to his age, and Harry didn’t disagree.

In the past month, he had barely managed to fit in his tour of Clava Tenebris and his health screening appointment and the informational classes required of every new member. His anxiety had been steadily increasing as he rocketed toward his first night.

On the other hand, he had never waited so long for something in his life. He wasn’t being dramatic, either; the past month of waiting for this night to come had encompassed many human lifetimes. His wait was so long and his eagerness so acute that he didn’t even find joy in porn anymore: watching men suck the cocks of other men just made him all the more impatient.

Ginny had picked up on Harry’s tension from day one. He knew that _she_ knew something was going on with him, but she thankfully didn’t ask, and he was not willing to volunteer the information, so they just danced around the issue and did what any other logical ex-couple would do: ignored it.

It took longer for Hermione and Ron to sense it, but once he passed his health screening and officially became a member of the club, he had become so constantly on edge that it was impossible to miss. Unlike Ginny though, they didn’t hesitate to point it out and Harry had scrambled to come up with an excuse, finally landing on his split from Ginny as the definite cause of his agitation. 

Embarrassed, Ron had dropped it... but not Hermione. She accepted his answer, but he could tell from her calculating look that she didn’t believe it for a second. They had stared each other down in silence, Ron obliviously chattering in the background, until she acquiesced with a curt nod—she was letting Harry drop it for now. 

He paced the floor of his bedroom; tomorrow was the day and he was too nervous to sleep. Gene had explained that he never had to participate in any sex act, that he could spend his entire time there just watching—that had made him feel a relief he hadn’t even known he’d needed. 

The club’s layout was fairly simple: the elaborate set of doors opened to a very dimly lit lounge and bar area. The bar was easy to locate as it had bulbs pointing directly at the bartender for easy visibility to order while keeping the lounge just bright enough to easily see the moving shapes of people and the vaguest of facial features.

The lounge broke off into four distinctive side hallways, each lined with muted red bulbs that provided enough light for the members to move around safely while still maintaining their adaptation to the dark. Each hallway had a specific set of cubby-like rooms that matched the theme of the hall. During his initial tour of the club, Harry was walked through each hallway in full lighting to allow him a chance to learn the layout.

The hallway to the far left led to a large open room with cushioned benches following the perimeter and one very large ottoman in the center. This was the dark room: a place men could go to have full contact sex with a partner in a room that was so dark only the sense of movement and the vaguest hint of a darker shape could be seen.

The next hall opened into a series of deep cubbies that each held a smooth metal wall with a large hole in the center. Gene had explained that it was a glory hole meant specifically for anal sex or other sex acts that would benefit from a larger opening. The opening was longer and wider to accommodate the increased need for movement. There was a specific side to enter if you wanted to bottom, and the opposite side was labelled for tops.

The next hall led to cubbies with a traditional oral-only glory hole, also with clearly labelled sides for giver and receiver to help assist and maintain consent in an environment that encouraged little talking and interacting. The final hallway led to larger cubbies that each included a comfortable-looking loveseat and a monitor. Here, the member (or members, if desired) could sit and watch a live night-vision feed of the other spaces. 

Harry had already planned his night: arrive and get his first of two allotted drinks and then go to the observation hall. He was going to ease himself into the process by watching the monitors that covered the traditional glory holes. He thought it would be a brilliant way to learn what he was supposed to do at these walls, and if he happened to also get off to the knowledge that it was happening in real life just feet away from him, then so be it.

Finally, Harry could fight his exhaustion no more and he fell into a fitful sleep.

~

Harry’s heart pounded as he walked swiftly down the observation hallway to make it to the cubbies at the end where he remembered the traditional glory hole monitors were located. He turned into the first room he came upon, but stopped short when he saw a man sitting on the sofa, his form just visible in the glow of the black and green screen. 

Harry grunted a perfunctory apology and quickly scurried to the next room, which was blessedly empty. He slid gratefully onto the sofa and attempted to place his drink on the floor without incident, but his shaking hands betrayed him and beer sloshed over his fingers again. Finally, he collapsed against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes for a moment to collect himself.

He had done it—he had made it inside the club. Truthfully, it was his strong desire to not accidentally make direct contact with _anyone_ else in the club that spurred him through the steps of his plan so quickly. So far, the staff had been lovely and no one had approached him as he shuffled through the bar area and then booked it to the observation hall.

He took another couple of minutes to breathe and centre himself before he opened his eyes and straightened on the sofa, finally taking in the view of the monitor in front of him. His eyes widened as he was immediately met with slightly grainy, green images of men—men doing very alluring things. 

Without being conscious of it, Harry slid to his knees onto the floor and leaned closer to the monitor, his hands resting along each side as he leaned so close his unruly bangs nearly brushed the screen. 

The video feed was split into four equal squares, each showing a live feed from a different glory hole station. Harry was instantly intrigued by the sight of a small, thin bloke eagerly sucking the cock of a tall, soft man with curly hair.

Due to the distance of the camera and small picture on the screen, mixed with the naturally blurred features created by the night-vision, they were not easily recognisable and Harry was fairly confident he wouldn’t know if he passed one of them on the street. It was a pretty clever way to cater to voyeurs while still maintaining the members’ privacy, and Harry felt another layer of comfort and confidence wash over him. 

Harry’s eyes roved hungrily across the screen, flicking back and forth between the two active scenes and nervously watching a bottom waiting patiently for a top to stumble into his room. Harry was relieved to see that the bloke didn’t look uncomfortable waiting; he merely kneeled quietly in front of the opening, occasionally sitting back on his haunches to stroke his cock, keeping it somewhere between soft and hard.

Harry had been rubbing his own hardening cock through his jeans and suddenly thought _he_ should go to that cubby—it was the perfect next step for him! If he first _received_ a blowjob then that would give him ample hands-on experience that he could then apply to his own turn on his knees. 

Gathering his courage, he stood and turned from the monitor to grab his pint from the floor. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to drain the mug right then or awkwardly carry it along with him; in the moment he took to decide (he’d carry it awkwardly, maybe abandon it on a table in the lounge) he turned back to the monitor in time to see a burly-looking man step into the half-occupied cubby. 

Groaning at his rotten luck, he quickly changed tack and drained his pint in a few gigantic gulps. He swiped his arm across his mouth to wipe the remnants of the liquid off his lips and stalked out into the hallway and toward the lounge. To his credit, he only misjudged two door frames in his overly-confident stroll through the dark club—though it was his right shoulder that took the brunt of both blows and he knew he would likely bruise.

He felt dizzy with nervous energy by the time he finally reached his destination: the last empty cubby in the glory hole hallway. He had decided in the split second of disappointment before he finished his beer that he would just go to the empty station and wait for a giver to come around. He was a Gryffindor after all—he should be the leader of his own pleasure... or something like that.

The space wasn’t very large, but nevertheless he paced it (two steps, turn, two steps, repeat) while he waited, his eyes locked on the small hole. How was he supposed to know when someone was there? He already felt like an eternity had passed since he first slipped into the space and no one had entered the other side of the wall. He fretted his hands together and considered going back to the observation hall—or leaving altogether and maybe trying again next month.

Thankfully, reason won out and he was able to remind himself that he had only been there for a handful of minutes, so he took a deep breath and forced himself to stop pacing. He was Harry James Potter for Merlin’s sake, he could do this. He just needed to keep reminding himself to breathe and to consider how much he actually did want this to happen, nerves notwithstanding. 

He closed his eyes and leaned against the centre wall before gently, but firmly, squeezing and rubbing his cock through his jeans. He thought of his favourite porn video and how happy both men seemed to be about their arrangement. He continued to concentrate on sexy thoughts and his cock started plumping again as he thought about how close he was to the men he had just been watching—he could even hear one of them now as a slow staccato of deep grunts started up somewhere nearby. 

If he really concentrated he could also hear the unmistakable slurp of a very wet blowjob in progress. He was fully hard at this point and decided it wouldn’t hurt to go ahead and get his cock out; surely someone would be here any minute and he wanted to be ready. 

With his sight so stunted, Harry tried to focus on what else he could hear. Other than the grunting and an occasional slurp, the club was fairly quiet. Harry knew that darkness encouraged quiet—it was basically second nature to people—but he kept himself alert, hoping to hear the soft footfalls of someone approaching the other side of his wall.

He closed his eyes again to better listen and found his attention wandering back to the grunting man—his tempo had increased and was getting slightly higher in pitch. The man was definitely about to come. Harry had still been stroking his cock, but his hand slowed as he became wrapped up entirely in listening to the unknown man reach his peak.

It was this distraction that made Harry miss the slight movement and muted sounds that indicated he had company in his room. The man finished and his groans died out; with the drop in noise Harry finally heard it—a modest throat clearing. Startled, he jumped back from where he had been leaning on the wall and just stared at the hole. 

Of course, it was too dark for him to make out anything on the other side. He was frozen in place; he had not properly planned this out. What was he supposed to do now? What was the etiquette for this situation? Did he just shove his cock through the hole and hope for the best? For some reason that just seemed rude to him.

The throat clearing came again, this time with an obvious hint of impatience. Abashed, Harry stepped forward. “Er, uh, you ready, then?” he whispered.

A low chuckle vibrated through the wall. “Yes, I’m ready.” 

Harry blew air forcefully out of his mouth and realised this was it, this was the moment where he just needed to jump in head first like he did with most other things in his life. Without giving it further thought, he stepped even closer to the barrier and lined his cock up with the hole before pushing it through in one motion. He couldn’t prevent the smug smile that tugged his lips when he heard a soft gasp from the other side.

Harry didn’t have the longest cock of anyone he knew—that honour currently lay with Neville—but he did have a thick cock that he had always been rather proud of, and the reaction he just received boosted his confidence even more. Suddenly, and with literally no warning whatsoever, his cock was enveloped in the silkiest heat he had ever felt.

His entire body jerked as his pleasure spiked so rapidly he thought he may get sick. Fortunately, he didn’t, but a high pitched whimper did rip its way out of his throat and he cringed at how pathetic he had to have sounded. 

This time, rather than hearing it, he felt the low chuckle vibrate through his cock and was embarrassed for about five seconds, until the mouth tightened over his cock and the man sucked in, _hard_. Harry’s head thunked forward and hit the wall, but he didn’t notice the pain, just like he didn’t notice his fingers scratching at the smooth metal, or his toes curling painfully in his oxfords in an attempt to keep him upright.

The bloke on the other side of the wall set a brutal pace, his mouth bobbing up and down Harry’s shaft relentlessly, his lips squeezing tightly on every upstroke, and it took everything Harry had in him to try and hold on long enough not to embarrass himself further. He was painfully hard; so deliciously, achingly hard. He could feel the stretch of the man’s lips over his girth, but still he was taking Harry like a champ, like Harry’s cock was the tastiest lolly on the planet. 

Then something happened that Harry had never experienced before—he spurted precome; like, he felt it forcefully squirt out of him in a mimicry of ejaculation. He had no idea that was even possible, but the sensation was incredible, as was the pleased hum and renewed vigour of his giver, who clearly liked it. 

It didn’t take long for the precome and spit to build up and the constant slurping noises combined with the feeling of the liquid running down his shaft and dripping onto his balls drove Harry insane with lust. He started thrusting and lost himself entirely to the sensations. The man matched his eagerness and began pumping Harry’s cock with one hand while he continued to suck and bob up and down the length of his shaft. 

Harry thrust again and hoarsely cried out when the tip of his dick hit the velvet roadblock of a throat. He pounded his fist against the wall and another barbaric sound ripped from his chest as the guy took him all the way in again and… swallowed. 

Harry had never felt the tight wave of throat muscles surrounding his cock like that and suddenly he could hold back no longer. “I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna—” And then he was coming. Deep spasms wracked his abdomen as he fought to stay upright while he pumped shot after shot of spunk down the stranger’s throat.

The whole thing had lasted less than five minutes. 

Harry’s head swam as he tried to regain control of himself. His cock was still mostly hard and the bloke was gently licking and kissing it, making Harry jerk and gasp every time he ran his tongue across a particularly sensitive area.

Finally, it was more than Harry could handle and he stepped back so his cock was out of reach. Fucks sake, he had never had a blowjob so earth-shattering. Ginny was good at blowjobs, but it wasn’t her passion and tended to be more of a thing she did to please Harry, and he could always tell. 

This guy, however, had sucked him like it was his life mission to steal souls via cock, like he was some kind of dick dementor.

Harry had been standing there lightly squeezing his cock as he relived the last few minutes over and over again when he suddenly remembered his manners. Embarrassed, he stepped closer to the wall and with a voice deep and husky with languid pleasure he spoke. “Did you, uh, finish?” 

Internally, he smacked himself for sounding like such an idiot. The low chuckle sounded again and Harry was surprised to feel his cock jump at the sound… apparently he liked that chuckle. “No, but that’s fine. It’s not what I came here for.”

Harry’s brows creased in concern; that wouldn’t do. He couldn’t fathom just walking away and leaving this bloke hanging, not after the outstanding service he had just provided. Screwing up his courage, Harry asked, “Would you want, uh—well, I’d be interested in uh... doing you back if you’d like? I’m not… well, I’m not experienced, but I would like to try, if you’re willing.”

Silence hung thick in the air for a few excruciating seconds before Harry heard a soft “okay”. He was trying to decide what to do next when a gorgeous, flushed cock slid through the opening. His heart leapt into his throat and he was suddenly terrified at what he had gotten himself into. But then he noticed a bead of precome gathering in the slit and he was done for; he was going to devour that cock.

He dead-dropped to his knees (that would certainly leave a bruise) and leaned close to the cock, examining it in the low light. It was beautiful. Harry had never really thought of cocks as beautiful before, but this one most certainly was. The glans was a deep shade of red and peeked halfway out of the foreskin, the shaft was creamy-white with sporadic pink blotches, and the length to girth ratio was perfect.

The bead of precome had grown and was in danger of dripping to the floor. Instinctively, Harry flicked his tongue out and licked the bead away, his eyes closing as he savoured the taste. _Gods, who knew men could taste so fucking good?_ A gasp and shudder from the man emboldened Harry and he opened his mouth and slid down the cock as far as he could.

He accidently went a smidge too far and backed up quickly as he gagged. “Sorry,” he said, embarrassed. Harry bit his lower lip and then enveloped the cock once again in his mouth. This time, he stopped just short of gagging and remembered to actually move his tongue and suck a little. The man hissed in pleasure and started thrusting, making Harry gag once more. He recovered quicker this time and went right back for more.

“Fuck yes, suck my cock. You like that, don’t you?” 

Harry’s eyes fluttered shut and he began pumping his own cock, which had hardened surprisingly quickly, as he attempted to open his throat and take whatever the guy wanted to give him. The man’s thrusts were smooth and Harry found he could just hold his head still and suck while the man thrust in and out of his mouth.

“I’m gonna come, and I want you to swallow every drop.” 

Harry groaned—this was most definitely the hottest thing he had ever done. Suddenly, the guy started grunting and Harry felt his cock pulsate seconds before the first spurt of spunk hit his tongue. He started to swallow, but the bursts were coming so quickly his mouth filled before he could get it down. The taste was musky and salty and Harry loved it. Despite that, he still ended up gagging at the volume of spunk and instinctively backed up, the last shot hitting him across the cheek. 

Harry quickly swallowed and went back to the cock to suckle it for every last drop. He already knew he would be doing this again; rather than satisfying his curiosity, this experience had ignited a desire in his belly that burned brighter than Fiendfyre.

And that’s all it took for Harry’s entire world to change yet again.

~

Harry spent the next week in a daze, his thoughts consumed by his experience at Clava Tenebris. He also spent a good portion of the week trying to figure out what that meant for him. Was he gay? Bisexual? Broken? He didn’t know.

He wanted desperately to talk it out with someone, but he didn’t think he was ready for that just yet. After all, this could just be a phase and he didn’t want to do some big ‘coming out’ thing if that wasn’t really him. He could already picture the _Prophet_ headline and resulting mail he would receive: hate from women and inappropriate solicitations from men.

One night, Ginny came home late from a date with Tate and found Harry sitting in the front room completely lost in thought. She had startled him simply by touching his shoulder; he hadn’t heard her come in the house. She had wanted to talk then—apparently finding him zoned out in a dark room with just static playing on the telly was disturbing (her words, not his).

He had been able to placate her by reassuring her he was fine and was still just working through some life decisions. She seemed genuinely concerned and it touched Harry that she still cared so much for him, but he could not fathom telling her that he went from being with her to getting sucked off by a strange _man_ in a dark club—and that it maybe was the greatest thing he had ever done for himself. 

When Friday finally crawled around, he decided to go back to the club. Though signing up to attend play nights was encouraged, members were always accepted as walk-ins as long as capacity allowed. He knew this was a regular night and would include all age ranges, but he didn’t care—he wouldn’t be seeing them anyway.

Harry checked into the club without incident and decided to have a drink first again, but this time something a little more powerful and a little less filling. The club had a two drink maximum rule to prevent inebriation and the possible lack of consent that can happen in those situations. It was enforced by a large stamp on the hand: one for each drink, and anyone with two stamps could get nothing stronger than a fizzy soda or water.

He decided to order a double whisky so he could get the fake confidence boost that the little shot of alcohol would give him and get the drinking out of the way right from the start. He sat at the bar while he forced himself to slowly sip his drink. He still managed to finish it in about five gulps, but that was better than one, right?

Once he finished his drink, he went straight to the oral glory hole hallway and gravitated toward the station he had been in last time. He had a glimmer of hope that the same bloke from last week would be there. Unfortunately, all the cubbies were currently occupied. Harry didn’t quite feel comfortable going to the anal or full contact hallways, so he waited in the designated space for a glory hole to open.

Shortly after, the hallway attendant approached him and murmured that a space was available for giving if he wished to take it. Harry did. He entered the space and saw the man already had his cock pushed through the hole, waiting. Still unsure of himself, he slowly lowered to his knees and just looked for a minute. 

This was definitely not the same cock from last week; Harry knew it had been a very long shot, but he was still disappointed. Not that this cock was bad—it was perfectly average—Harry had just been craving that other specific man for a week.

Shaking off his disappointment, Harry threw himself into the task at hand and started blowing the guy with a lot more bravado than he felt. This man was a lot more verbal than the last, his moans and grunts filling Harry’s ears and encouraging him along. Harry enjoyed the aural confirmation of his skills and ended up wanking himself to completion while he finished off his partner. 

It was still relatively early in the night and Harry didn’t feel entirely satisfied, so he went back to the bar and sipped on some water before he planned to have another go at a glory hole. He rested and hydrated for about an hour before he decided he ought to go ahead and see if a space was available. He had noted a lot of coming and going from the entrance and his plucky optimism had him thinking he may still run into the bloke from last week.

He carefully made his way down the hall, peeking into each cubby to see if it was occupied, and was relieved to see that the last room had a shadowed figure waiting for a receiver. Harry eagerly slipped into the space, his cock already starting to plump. He was starting to feel like an old hat at this process and immediately pulled his half-hard cock out of his trousers and guided it through the hole.

“Ah. You again.” 

Harry gasped and nearly choked on his own saliva when he instantly recognised the steady, low voice. It was the guy! Harry laughed, a nervous burst of sound, before regaining control of himself.

“So, we meet again.” He was proud how controlled and confident he sounded, especially since his internal organs were still bouncing around like they’d been hexed. He sighed in pleasure as the bloke started a slow, steady stroke on his cock. 

Harry heard an appreciative hum from the other side and an involuntary groan escaped him as his cock was licked from base to tip right before his glans was enveloped in the impossible heat of the guy’s mouth. Harry bit his lip to hold back his whimpers as his cock was sucked and licked.

The bloke slid Harry’s cock out of his mouth and started stroking firmly again. A pregnant pause hung in the air and the hair on Harry’s neck stood at attention in anticipation of… something.

“Do you fancy moving to the other hall?” 

The invitation was asked so nonchalantly that it took Harry a moment to register it—he had just been invited to fuck this guy; or possibly _be_ fucked, but for some reason he didn’t think that was the implication. He must have taken longer than normal to answer because then he heard, “This is perfectly fine too,” before his cock was engulfed again. 

“Ah, NO!” he yelled, much louder than intended. _Gods, he was so embarrassing._ “I mean, yeah, yeah I fancy it. Um, if you still do, that is.” Harry heard a satisfying _pop_ as the guy released his cock and without a word, he just started walking away.

Confused and more than a little nervous, Harry scrambled to follow the guy, his cock still wet and bobbing lightly in front of him. Despite the dark, Harry felt very exposed and grabbed his dick, covering as much of it as he could with his hand as he hurried along the hall.

He picked up his pace as he saw the shadow of the guy turn out of the hall, headed toward the larger glory holes. Harry did not want to lose him in the dark. Thankfully, he turned into the new hall in time to see the somewhat tall figure duck into the bottoming side. Harry’s relief was palpable as he slipped into the topping side and looked around. 

There was a red light in this cubby illuminating a bowl of rubbers. Right. He couldn’t exactly do a protective charm on a Muggle and was glad the club was prepared since he certainly wasn’t. His erection had faded a little during the stressful walk to the new space so he took a moment to stroke himself back to full hardness. 

He had only ever seen a rubber in porn and those usually didn’t show the application. He had really gotten himself into a pickle this time. He ripped open the small foil package and looked at the pliant disc. Well, at least it seemed pretty straight forward. He was concentrating intensely on rolling the rubber down his shaft—it was a lot more snug than he anticipated—and at first he ignored the little tingle that had washed over him.

But when it happened again, he stopped and his head snapped toward the wall separating him from the stranger. That was the tingle of magic. Not magic used on him, that would have felt stronger, but he could sense the signature of spent magic on the other side. 

Fuck’s sake! Of course he would go to a Muggle club only to end up fucking a wizard. He was more thankful than ever for the anonymity of the club; there was no way a wizard in London wouldn’t know who he was. He considered leaving, but he sensed movement by the wide opening and all thoughts of leaving fled his mind when he caught a glance of perfect, milky-white arse cheeks.

“I’m already prepped. I’m ready,” the low voice said.

Harry huffed a nervous laugh and decided he could worry about the bloke’s identity later. He stepped up to the wall and grasped his dick at the base and directed the tip toward the rosy hole in front of him. It was puckered and puffy and Harry had a sudden urge to lick it. Instead, he rubbed the tip of his dick around the entrance and up and down the guy’s crack, pressing a little more firmly when he rubbed over the perineum. 

Harry swallowed thickly and gripped the base of his dick harder. The other guy was making the most delectable moans, enough that Harry already felt close to coming just from listening to them. He continued to rub his dick around the target just to draw more of the erotic sounds from him until he heard a decidedly annoyed hiss of, “Fuck me already, would you?”

Oh. Well, Harry could do that. With one controlled slide, he entered the arse in front of him. He pressed his forehead into the cold metal wall and kept his eyes shut tight and his teeth gritted, trying to fight back his impending orgasm. Holy mother of Merlin, it felt incredible. More than incredible, really, Harry just didn’t have the vocabulary to describe it.

Before Harry was fully in control of himself, the guy started rocking back onto his dick, clearly impatient to get going. Harry grasped the base of his cock tightly again and started slowly sliding in and out. It took a few strokes for their rhythms to match up, but when they did…holy shit.

For the first time, the lack of contact annoyed Harry. He wanted to be gripping hips, squeezing arse cheeks, staring at the wide expanse of masculine shoulders—he couldn’t even properly watch his dick sliding in and out of the arsehole since he had to stand so close to the wall. Now he understood the benefit of the open space dark room. 

The man angled his hips further and Harry felt the slight swell of his prostate as the head of his dick slid by. The other man emitted a soft grunt every time Harry rubbed the sensitive spot and it spurred Harry to thrust harder.

He enjoyed hearing the increasing excitement from his partner, but even though he was still squeezing the base of his cock harder than he ever had, he was so close to coming. He wanted to come, but he needed his partner to come first. “I… I can’t last much longer,” he finally grunted out.

“Then fucking come already.” 

_Who was this guy?_ Suddenly, the other man was crying out and his arse started spasming around Harry’s cock. That was the straw that would break even the stoutest camel’s back and Harry finally allowed himself his release.

The two of them continued moving and thrusting through both their orgasms before the other man finally stepped forward and Harry’s cock slid out of his arse. They both stood without speaking, only their heavy breathing disturbing the silence in their small space. 

Harry was just looking at the rubber on his cock and trying to work out how to remove it without getting his mess everywhere when the other guy broke the silence. “I’ll be here next week too”—there was a short pause—“same time.” And with that, he was gone. 

Harry stood there, flabbergasted, before finally cleaning himself up and leaving as well.

~

The following week was a master class in distraction for Harry. He felt slightly more sure that he was at least bisexual and he was coming to terms with it, but he still wasn’t quite ready to have that conversation with anyone. So, he spent the week constantly distracting himself; he couldn’t accidentally make people worry about him if he was too busy to give them reason for concern.

He visited George and Ron at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and volunteered to test every new product George showed him, some of which he truly regretted afterwards. He had lunch with Hermione one day and Luna the next. He spent an afternoon at Neville’s nursery, helping him re-pot baby Mandrakes and laughing over memories of their first time doing that together.

He even spent one day up at Hogwarts visiting Professor McGonagall (despite her insistence, he still couldn’t call her Minerva) and Hagrid. He stuck around late that night to have dinner in the Great Hall and afterwards decided to join the Hufflepuff Quidditch practice that was scheduled that evening, but it very quickly devolved into a series of pick-up games amongst all the houses when word spread that Harry was there. 

Towards the end of the week, he ran into Ginny and Tate one evening when he had popped over to Fortescue’s for a pre-dinner sweet and accidently interrupted a post-work ice cream date. It was awkward, but Harry remained civil and introduced himself to Tate. He kind of hated it, but he had to admit that Tate was pretty fit and seemed genuinely nice, and the look Harry had caught him giving Ginny before they noticed him made him begrudgingly like the guy; he was clearly smitten with her.

The wait for Friday night had been terrible, but the week of activity and camaraderie had been good for Harry’s soul. He felt more secure in himself and ready to face whatever was happening with this unknown wizard lurking in a Muggle club. 

Besides, he had also kinda-sorta come up with a plan. 

~

Harry currently sat on a loveseat in one of the observation rooms nursing a double whisky. He had been watching men rotate through the large glory hole rooms for the past hour, debating with himself the entire time over whether or not he was crossing a line. 

His grand plan was to wait for the unknown man, who was clearly a wizard, to show up first so he could get a look at him in the night-vision camera. He knew he wouldn’t really be able to make out specific or distinct features, but he would at least get a general idea of his size and mannerisms to be better able to identify him in the real world should something go belly-up.

Harry hated that he had grown so suspicious, but it just seemed too much of a coincidence to run into a completely “unknown” wizard two weeks in a row in a Muggle club literally built for anonymity. Statistics usually didn’t lie, and a great teacher once ingrained in him to maintain constant vigilance. 

At least, that’s what he told himself when the other half of his argument cycled in his head: that perhaps this was just another local wizard who preferred to explore his sexuality and pleasure in a more discreet manner and he deserved privacy as much as Harry did.

Still.

Harry glanced at the wristwatch he had purchased specifically for this reason and straightened on the sofa, his attention once again riveted on the screen; it was officially in the ballpark of the time they had met in both of their previous encounters and the man could be arriving at any minute.

Luckily, since it was later in the evening, two of the four rooms were unoccupied. Of the two empty rooms, the one they had used last week was available and that’s where Harry figured the man would go, so he focused his attention to the bottom left of the screen. Logically, he knew he couldn’t really be 100% positive that he was looking at the right guy if someone did show up, but he had a strong gut feeling that he would know; they had shared pretty intense intimacy and that just felt like something you would recognise. 

Harry sucked in a sharp breath and scooted forward to perch on the edge of the sofa—he had just seen someone walk into the room. His eyes moved rapidly over the features of the man, whose back was currently to the camera, trying to gather as many details as he could. The bloke didn’t look anything like Harry had imagined and he was surprised at the blossom of disappointment in his chest.

Finally, the man turned toward the camera and Harry yelled out in frustration: it was just the hall attendant checking the room for cleanliness. Harry groaned and collapsed back onto the sofa, closing his eyes and breathing out his frustration. The false alarm had made his guilt spike again and he wasn’t sure if he should continue to stick around to try and spy a glimpse of someone who wished to remain anonymous.

As he contemplated his next move, he noticed movement again in the lower left corner of the screen and glanced up, fully expecting to see the same attendant puttering around the room again... but that’s not what he saw. Not at all. 

He stared at the screen, greedily taking in the tall, slender form of the guy who had just entered the bottoming side of the cubby. The man moved with a calm confidence and even just looking at him from behind, Harry could practically hear the echo of his soft chuckle written all over him. Harry knew: this was definitely the guy.

He hadn’t turned around yet and Harry leaned forward anxiously on the sofa, silently willing him to do so. He just wanted to see the bloke’s face really quick and then he could rush over there and fuck him. Harry was more relieved than he cared to admit that the guy appeared to be very fit, and Harry had every confidence that his face would match his body; only, he still hadn’t turned around (what the fuck was he doing in the corner?) and Harry stared at the back of his head in a futile effort to make him turn around faster.

As he continued to look, Harry finally took note of the guy’s hair: it was cut short and neatly on the sides and back with a longer patch of hair on top that was styled in a precise side swoop. The thing that had Harry taking note, however, was how brightly it showed on the screen. Colors came through the green tinge differently, but things like hair color were typically common enough that you could approximately guess a person’s hair color based on the depth of the shade. Harry had not seen hair this bright before though; it was so bright he figured it had to be white, which was unusual as the bloke didn’t look old.

It happened so gradually Harry wasn’t sure when the first prickle of recognition crept over him. He watched as the man stood primly, face still away from the camera, while he unfastened what appeared to be cufflinks before gently slipping his jacket off and folding it neatly before placing it in the corner. The way he moved and the way he held himself… there was something there. 

Harry’s gut felt the dread before his brain did. 

Finally, the bloke turned and faced the camera, looking directly into it while slowly stroking and squeezing his cock through his trousers, his lips quirked into a brazen smirk. Harry’s mouth dropped and he stopped breathing completely as he tried to convince himself this wasn’t who he thought it was—it couldn’t be. 

Then the guy stretched. In one fluid motion, he rolled his long neck in a slow circle before stretching his arms high over his head and then bringing them down to touch his toes before quickly shaking every limb to loosen the muscles. 

Harry felt faint; his limbs went slack and he sank into the sofa as visceral memories of watching that exact stretch for _years_ flooded his mind; he was afraid he was going to be sick. 

Malfoy. 

He had fucked Draco Malfoy. And worst of all, he already knew it didn’t matter, he wanted to do it again anyway—hell, now that he knew, he kind of wanted to do it again specifically _because_ it was Draco, but he was definitely not going to unpack that right now. 

Harry scrubbed his face hard, knocking his glasses askew, and ran his fingers through his hair, lightly pulling the strands to help ground his thoughts. He had no choice; he had to tell him. He knew there would be no way he would be able to approach that wall and pretend he didn’t know who he was fucking. 

_Fuck._

Suddenly, Harry stood and forced himself to start walking. His pace increased the closer he got to Draco; he just wanted this to be over. He walked up to the cubby quickly and stopped awkwardly in front of the side of the cubby Draco was in, just a couple of feet away. It was much darker now that Harry didn’t have the benefit of night-vision, but he still saw Draco turn toward him. “What—”

“Malfoy.” It came out as a weak whisper, but Harry didn’t have the capacity to feel embarrassed about something so trivial right now. 

Draco stiffened and Harry winced as the mood between them rapidly shifted to hostility; it was so thick Harry felt like he could reach out and gather it in his hands. “What. The. Fuck. Are. You. Doing. Here. Potter?” Draco spit the words out in a sharp staccato, tension vibrating off of him so intensely Harry was briefly concerned he would have an uncontrolled outburst of magic.

“We need to talk.” Harry refused to be the one to break eye contact first and though the light was dim, Draco was so pale he practically glowed and Harry could see the play of emotions across his face as he glanced from the glory hole partition to Harry and back. Harry saw the exact moment he realised the full scope of the situation; Draco closed his eyes and took a deep breath in before slowly letting it out. 

“Is everything ok here, gentlemen?”

Harry startled and yelped in surprise at the sudden appearance of the hall attendant at his elbow. Draco took advantage of the distraction and grabbed his jacket and pushed past Harry and the attendant, heading toward the club exit. 

“Fine, thanks,” Harry shout-whispered over his shoulder as he sprinted after Draco.

He caught up to him in the lounge and grabbed his arm. “Malfoy, wait. We need—”

Draco wrenched his arm from Harry’s grip. “ _We_ don’t need to do anything; _I_ am leaving.” He turned and got one step closer to the door before Harry darted around him and blocked his path.

“Look, it already happened. We’re adults now, we can figure this out like adults.” Draco glared and him and Harry’s heart clenched at the familiar look.

“I am not doing this here, Potter.” Draco looked around the lounge and pointedly directed Harry’s attention to the numerous heads that had all turned to watch them, including the bartender. The lounge attendant was already walking toward them. Draco held up his hand towards the attendant, “It’s ok Sam, we’re leaving.” The attendant nodded and headed back to his corner post.

“You know the attendants?” 

Draco shot another death glare at Harry and then roughly pushed past him, clocking his shoulder harder than was strictly necessary. Harry followed closely behind him, following him out the club entrance and then through the lobby and out of the building entirely.

“Didn’t you check your things?” Harry asked. He was practically jogging to keep up with Draco’s long stride.

“I don’t need any of it tonight,” was all Draco offered as he kept walking.

Irritated, Harry picked up the pace of his jog and cut Draco off again. “You have to talk to me. I’ve fucked you and that can’t be changed! What am I supposed to do now?”

“You cannot be serious.” Malfoy’s face contorted into a sneer. “What do you want me to say? I haven’t seen you in _seven_ years and we didn’t exactly part on good terms. In fact, I would say we’ve never even _once_ been on good terms. What the fuck do you expect from me?”

Harry’s mouth opened and closed a few times as he tried to formulate a response. Draco rolled his eyes and pushed past Harry again, walking briskly towards the nearest Apparition point. Harry immediately followed. “I expect you to not be a prick for once, maybe. I can’t ignore that this happened—I FUCKED YOU IN THE ARSE! I SUCKED YOUR DICK! YOU SUCKED **MY** DICK!” Harry had gotten increasingly hysterical as he followed after Draco, desperate to make him stop walking for even a second so they could hash this out.

Draco’s eyes glinted dangerously as he whipped around and grasped Harry’s bicep. Harry was preparing to push him off when he felt a familiar tug behind his navel; this prick was seriously side-alonging him somewhere without warning AND without being in a Ministry-approved area.

They landed and Draco immediately let go of Harry’s arm, leaving him to catch his own balance as he swayed unsteadily. Apparition was mildly uncomfortable in ideal circumstances, but ambush Apparitions hit harder; they were dangerous and ill-advised for a reason. Harry’s stomach lurched and he swallowed back a surge of bile. “You dick!” 

Harry heard glass clinking and looked up to see Draco standing by a bar cart filling a crystal tumbler with dark amber liquid from a crystal decanter. Harry looked around the room he was in and deduced they must be in Draco’s flat. When Harry’s eyes fell again on Draco, he found him leaning against the bar cart, staring in the middle distance and taking periodic gulps from his glass.

“I could go for a drink too, you know.” Harry ran his hand through his hair and pouted. Draco rolled his eyes again and Harry found himself biting back a smile. Despite all the animosity they had held against each other as youths, Harry currently found himself strangely delighted and comforted by Draco’s familiar antics.

Draco held out his hand and a cheap lowball glass floated into it from the bottom shelf of the bar cart. He sloshed a few fingers of whisky in the glass and flicked his hand, sending it flying toward Harry.

Harry not only caught the glass, but also managed to keep most of the liquid in it. He smiled smugly at Draco as he took a large gulp and Draco bared his teeth in a wide grimace back at him.

They stood in silence a moment, each drinking from their respective glasses until Harry could stand it no more and spoke first. “I didn’t know it was you until tonight. I just joined the club a little over a month ago.” He emptied his glass and levitated it back to the bar cart while he squeezed the back of his neck in an attempt to relieve some of his tension. “I thought it would be a safe place to... figure out some things.” 

“Things like, you enjoy buggering men? I wonder, what does Ginevra have to say about this, huh?” Harry looked down at the floor, avoiding Draco’s gaze. “Ah. The sweet girl-Weasley has no idea her hero boyfriend likes sucking off strange men in the dark? That’s cheap, even for you, Potter.”

Harry’s nostrils flared in anger. “Leave her out of this, Malfoy.” Harry clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times to give himself a moment to cool down. “Ginny and I split almost nine months ago. She has nothing to do with this, and I will tell her—when I’m ready, you understand?” Harry let the implied threat hang thick in the air.

Malfoy stared at him while taking another lazy sip of his drink. “I’ve been a member of that club for over two years now; I consider the space mine. You’ll need to find somewhere else to get your secret gay rocks off.” 

Harry scowled. “You can’t claim a public space as your own, Malfoy. And it’s rich of you to say I am trying to be secretive when clearly that’s your intention as well.” Harry glared at Draco, his annoyance peaking when Draco maintained his stony expression; Harry couldn’t tell what he was thinking. “Why are you being secretive, anyway? At least I have a reason to be cautious—you can imagine how quickly word would spread if I was caught out with a bloke.”

“Oh, right, because you’re the only recognisable person in all of Wizarding Britain—it’s so good to see you’ve really matured and learned how to think of others.” Draco’s voice positively dripped with sarcasm and it rankled Harry to no end.

Harry scowled, “I didn’t say that, I just meant I have a spotlight on me at all times and I have to be careful with what I do.” He paused a moment. “Why _are_ you hiding, anyway?”

Draco tossed the remainder of his drink back and slammed his tumbler on the cart. “First of all: having anonymous sex isn’t a form of hiding, it is a perfectly valid and normal way to enjoy sex.” Harry opened his mouth to backtrack his statement but Draco stomped toward him and held up his hand to stop him, “Second of all: you aren’t the only recognisable wizard in Britain; you try having more than one date end in an attempt on your life and tell me how you would go about getting your needs met then, okay?”

Harry was stunned. Confused, he asked, “People have actually tried to kill you?”

“Oh grow up, Harry. I am an ex-Death Eater who many people think got nothing more than a slap on the wrist for my war crimes—of course people have tried to kill me.”

“Well, that’s not right!” 

Draco shot Harry a withering look. “Right or not, it is my experience and I found a perfectly acceptable way around it; so again, Clava Tenebris is mine. No one would dare touch a single untamed hair on your head, so I don’t think—”

Draco was still standing close to Harry and without thinking, Harry leaned forward into his space, their faces now only inches apart. Draco stopped mid-sentence and just looked at Harry, neither of them moving while the air around them became charged with… something. 

Draco’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed thickly and Harry watched it with interest. He slowly slid his eyes up Draco’s pale neck and over his sharp jawline, noting the faintest shadow of stubble, before catching on his lips. Draco’s tongue darted out and wet his lower lip and Harry involuntarily gasped.

His eyes shot up to meet Draco’s and his stomach clenched in arousal when he recognised that the look in Draco’s eyes reflected his own feelings: desire. Moving forward with a confidence he didn’t entirely feel, Harry ghosted his lips over Draco’s and paused, hovering over them while he looked Draco directly in his eyes. “I’ve tried to kill you before and personally didn’t find it to my taste. Fucking you, however, very much was.” He raised his brows in a silent question for consent and swallowed back a moan as Draco cleared the millimetre of space and hungrily took control of Harry’s lips.

Draco gently forced Harry backwards as they continued to kiss. Harry had thought having Draco’s cock in his mouth was a delight he would never top, but he had no words to describe how amazing it felt to have his tongue sliding in and over his lips, to taste him and feel the rugged scratch of his stubble. 

Abruptly, Harry’s legs ran into an obstacle and the resulting jolt knocked his and Draco’s teeth together. Paying it no mind, Draco pulled away from Harry and shoved him backwards, making him land hard on the sofa behind him. In seconds, Draco was straddling his lap and Harry could not contain his groan this time as their erections immediately pressed together. 

Harry had no idea how long they stayed like that—Draco on top grinding down hard while Harry pressed upward with equal vigour. Their lips and tongues and teeth slid over every available surface: jaws, necks, mouths, ears. It could have been minutes, or it could have been hours, but Harry suddenly found himself positively aching for more. 

Soon, Harry’s lips were relinquished when Draco slid down to kiss and suck on his throat and Harry managed to croak out, “C-can we do more?” Draco sucked hard and pulled away from Harry’s neck quickly, the resulting _pop_ of Harry’s skin un-suctioning from his mouth echoing across the room.

Draco smirked and Harry had to bite his cheek hard to avoid giving away just how much he liked that look. “What more are you proposing?”

Though the question was entirely expected, Harry blushed deeply and found he couldn’t make eye contact with Draco. “Do you, er… do you ever top?” Draco smiled wickedly and stood, holding his hand out for Harry to grab before he hauled him off the couch with surprising strength. Draco dropped Harry’s hand and turned on his heel, beckoning him to follow him down a short hallway and into the master bedroom.

Draco stopped just inside the doorway and Harry awkwardly entered and stood near him, unsure of what he was supposed to do. Thankfully, he didn’t have to wait long for direction. Draco pointed at the bed, “Hands and knees, Potter.” 

Still blushing deeply, Harry grabbed the hem of his shirt in preparation to pull it over his head but was stopped with two words: “Now, Potter.” 

Harry closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath to gain some control over himself. Apparently at some point over the past seven years, Draco’s bossiness had transitioned from absolutely insufferable to intolerably erotic. He walked to the bed and climbed onto it before settling into position on his hands and knees. 

He wasn’t facing Draco and so it came as a complete shock when he suddenly heard the close, low murmur of a spell incantation and then *poof* his clothes were gone. Harry groaned deeply and dropped to his elbows, his hips thrusting in the air involuntarily as he tried to process what was happening to him. This had to be a dream: sex had never been this good—and he hadn’t even gotten to the actual sex yet!

He felt Draco come up behind him and bit his lip to keep from crying out desperately as Draco slowly ran his thumb from the apex of Harry’s crack down, rubbing a quick circle over his sensitive arsehole before firmly dragging over his perineum and then finally over his balls and down his cock. Draco firmly gripped Harry’s cock from behind and began slowly, tortuously, stroking it. 

Harry dropped his upper body down even further, his bottom lip clenched so tightly in his teeth that he tasted blood; he was vaguely aware that he was grunting unceremoniously and desperately pressing his arse backwards, looking for any kind of contact.

Draco hummed appreciatively. “I always had a feeling you would be this pliant under my hand.” Harry stopped grunting and propped himself up, looking backwards at Draco and narrowing his eyes. “Malf—” His retort died on his tongue as Draco swiftly moved his thumb back to Harry’s arsehole and pressed it inside in one smooth motion. 

Harry’s eyes rolled back and his arms collapsed again, leaving his face pressed into the mattress and his arse in the air, a wild cry ripping itself out of his lungs. He heard the low chuckle, the same one that had carried so nicely across the partition at the club, and he knew he was gone for: there would be no protesting Draco’s assertion that he could so easily control Harry in this way. 

There must have been something in his body language that indicated his complete surrender, because Draco made a low, feral growl and shoved Harry forward, knocking him off his knees. Harry was now laying flat on the bed, his legs slightly spread, and his cock trapped between the soft down blanket and his overheated body. 

Draco scrambled on top of him and Harry was only vaguely aware that he could feel Draco’s skin against his own—he had gotten naked. Flashes of Draco’s cock pushed through the glory hole in the club danced through Harry’s mind and he groaned again and rocked his hips, pressing down onto the bed as hard as he could to increase the friction on his cock. 

Draco leaned over his back and crowded close to his ear. “This is going to go fast, is that okay?” Harry nodded, but Draco just leaned down further and licked the shell of his ear while he tilted his hips forward and rubbed his cock in between Harry’s arse cheeks. “I want you to say it out loud, Harry.” 

Harry didn’t miss the change from ‘Potter’ to ‘Harry’ and he was nearly sickened by how much he liked hearing Draco say his name. “Yes! Please fuck me now, Mal—Draco, please.” 

Draco sat up and lightly bit Harry’s trapezius. “Good boy.” 

Harry nearly cried. 

He heard a low murmur and shuddered as a wave of magic washed over him. Unconsciously, he took note of his body to track any changes that would indicate what had been cast on him. He felt the slightly astringent wash of a cleaning spell right before feeling the muscles around his anus relaxing; he figured a protection spell had also been cast, Draco appeared to be going through the traditional set of anal preparation spells. 

He caught the words of a familiar incantation milliseconds before a stream of cool lube trickled down into his crack. He bit the bed cover in between his teeth to muffle his pitiful moans and pressed up as soon as he felt Draco rubbing the tip of his cock up and down his crack, spreading the lube before lining up the tip of his cock with Harry’s entrance. 

Draco placed a palm flat on the small of Harry’s back and Harry felt the bed shift as Draco spread his knees and lowered himself. His weight was disproportionately centered on Harry’s back, pressing him so exquisitely hard into the mattress.

And then Harry lost all ability for rational thought. Draco pressed him onto the mattress as he slid his cock deep into Harry’s arse, not stopping until he had completely bottomed out. Draco paused to give Harry a moment to adjust and then he started thrusting—fast.

Harry kept the blanket clamped tightly between his teeth; his arms had thrashed out to the side and each gripped a large handful of the material—the bed cover was the only thing grounding him in the moment and keeping him from completely bombarding himself and Draco. Harry’s entire body jolted forward with every thrust and his orgasm teetered excruciatingly on the proverbial knife’s edge. 

As Draco fucked Harry, he whispered a litany of praises and vulgar exclamations of pleasure and Harry found himself getting emotional again. He was just so overwhelmed with sensations, both physical and mental; loss of control and praise were not something he had really explored before and he was amazed at how strongly it affected him.

Draco leaned forward until he was laying with his chest against Harry’s back, his chin resting just over Harry’s shoulder as he continued to thrust. The change in position resulted in Harry’s prostate getting a long drag with every move of Draco’s cock and pressed him even harder into the mattress, increasing the friction against his cock another fraction. 

Harry was close, so incredibly close.

“Come for me, Harry.” 

Draco’s low, sultry tone vibrating through Harry’s body and the hot huff of air from Draco’s mouth pushed Harry over his limit. He emitted one hoarse bark of a cry before his scream turned silent, his mouth gaping open while his cock pulsed hot bursts of come that pooled between him and the bedcover. 

Draco stopped moving and pressed his forehead into Harry’s shoulder as he also came, his soft grunts blowing cool air over Harry’s heated back as his cock pulsed deep within him with each spurt. Harry’s voice came back in quiet, hoarse bursts of air as he rocked his hips and rode his orgasm until he became too sensitive to keep moving. 

Draco had collapsed on top of him, his entire body pressing down on Harry’s as he tried to catch his breath. His weight felt good on Harry and he found himself lying there with his eyes closed, moments away from falling asleep. Too soon, Draco rolled off of him and Harry bit back the instant protestation he felt. 

Instead, he flipped his head so he was now facing Draco and he watched as Draco lay on his back, panting, one arm thrown over his face as he recovered. Harry took the time to drink in Draco’s body: his perfectly milky skin, his flat and wiry torso, his still-flushed and glistening cock. 

Harry became sure of two things as he lay there looking at Draco: he was most definitely, irrevocably bisexual, and he wanted this to be the beginning of something new between him and Draco—he only hoped Draco felt the same. 

He continued to secretly watch Draco and must have dozed off, because suddenly he was startled awake by Draco nudging him to roll over. He noticed Draco had slipped his boxers back on and was holding a flannel in one hand. “Come on Harry, roll.” Draco nudged him again and, groaning, Harry complied. He grimaced as the blanket briefly stuck to his cock due to his dried come and he looked around, trying to locate his wand so he could clean up.

“I’ve got it,” Draco said. He grabbed his wand from his nightstand and cast a _Scourgify_ on the blanket, cleaning all traces of Harry off of his bedcover. “The Muggle way is a bit more soothing to clean skin, do you mind?” He held the flannel in the air and Harry nodded. 

Harry watched as Draco carefully wiped the dried spunk off of his abdomen before gently wiping down his cock and balls as well. He picked up his wand again and cast a more gentle version of _Scourgify_ and Harry felt the cleaning sensation wash through his colon, cleansing him on the inside. Finally, Draco wiped down Harry’s crack and then sent the flannel levitating into the en suite.

“Do you want me to call you a cab?” Draco asked. Harry frowned and Draco rushed to add, “I suppose you could also stay, if you wanted; I have a guest room.”

Harry furrowed his brows and started to scoot to the edge of the bed before screwing up his courage once again. “Would you mind if I stayed here, in this bed, with you?” 

Harry thought he caught the barest glimmer of a smile before Draco schooled his features and shrugged. “That’s fine with me.” Harry yawned and scooted himself up toward the pillows and helped Draco turn down the sheets before crawling under them. Draco slipped into the empty side of the bed and they lay there stiffly for a moment until Harry rolled onto his stomach and threw an arm over Draco, pulling him a little closer before settling in. Draco relaxed against him and Harry quickly fell asleep to the familiar sound and vibration of a low chuckle. 

~

Harry woke and squinted his eyes against the bright light of the room; it took him a moment to remember where he was, and once he did, he immediately sat up and looked around the room for Draco; the room was empty and the bedroom door was just barely cracked open. Harry rolled out of bed and was pleased to find his clothes folded neatly at the foot of it. He dressed quickly and visited the en suite loo before heading out into the flat to find Draco.

He found him sitting at a small table in the kitchen reading the _Prophet_ and sipping on a creamy mug of coffee. When Harry entered, Draco didn’t even look up from the paper; he just pointed to the counter where Harry saw a Muggle coffee maker with mugs on one side and a silver tray set with a small pot of cream and sugar on the other. Harry poured himself a mug and splashed the smallest amount of cream into it before joining Draco at the breakfast table.

He sipped his coffee and skimmed through the article on the back page of the paper until Draco finally set it down and looked at him. Harry didn’t want to be the first one to speak; he needed to know what Draco was thinking without him being swayed by anything he said first. The silence stretched on for what seemed like forever. Harry was having to work very hard not to squirm in his seat and it irritated him that Draco appeared to be completely unbothered.

They looked into each other’s eyes, daring the other to speak. Harry broke first, sort of: “I am declining to speak first,” he finally said.

Draco chuckled and took another sip of his coffee. “Well, my thoughts are entirely dependent on whether or not you have figured out the things you were trying to figure out.”

Harry blushed. “Yeah, I think I’ve got that pretty sorted.” Draco merely arched a single perfect brow at him, an invitation to continue. “It seems I’ve got a few important developments in my life that I need to discuss with my friends and then have leaked to the media in a neat, controlled way.”

Draco nodded. “I wouldn’t mind doing this again, then.” 

Harry rolled his eyes. “So non-committal.” 

Draco shrugged and picked up his paper again. “I’m still not sure we won’t end up killing each other, but I’m willing to keep fucking until we find out.” 

Harry snorted and grabbed Draco’s paper out of his hands and slapped it onto the table. “I think I’m ready for more research.” He stood and walked in front of Draco and deliberately palmed his cock, squeezing the hardening bulge that was just slightly below eye level from Draco. He leaned down and whispered in Draco’s ear, “You know, the first time you gave me a blow job, I thought you were a dick dementor trying to suck my soul out of my prick. Let’s see if you can succeed this time, yeah?” Harry winked and then turned his back and walked confidently toward the master bedroom.

He smiled and began unbuckling his belt when he heard the sharp scrape of Draco’s chair pushing back as he quickly followed.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Please support the author by clicking on the kudos button and leaving a comment below! ♥


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